


thaw

by cirrus (themorninglark)



Series: SASO 2017 [27]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Challenge: Sports Anime Shipping Olympics | SASO 2017, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 16:01:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11581404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themorninglark/pseuds/cirrus
Summary: Kozume Kenma had never been as meek as people said he was. Keiji knew that better than most.





	thaw

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SASO 2017 Bonus Round 4: Quotes | [originally posted here](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/23665.html?thread=14572401#cmt14572401)
> 
> "there will always be a space between you and every other person in the world, no matter how close they may come to you. it's not a sad thing. maybe this is the only way people can go on living"  
> ― Hwei Lim, [_Hero_](http://invisiblecities.comicgenesis.com/)

It came like a shadow, the tug on his sleeve. It came from a point just above his elbow, and as Keiji stopped in his tracks, he felt that flickering touch ghost down his forearm, find the jut of his exposed wrist where his sleeve ended. The hand that slipped into his own was warm. It paid no regard to the tape round his knuckles, the days-old bruise at the heel of his palm.  
  
Kozume Kenma had never been as meek as people said he was. Keiji knew that better than most. He turned to look into eyes that still struck him to the quick, and exhaled, rough in between his lips.

 

/

 

This was their litany of little transgressions:  
  
Keiji seeking company on an after-hours stroll, when it got dark and they were all supposed to be in bed. He gave no excuses. He was too direct to pretend that he’d get lost in the halls of Nekoma. Kenma knew as much, so they dispensed with all that.  
  
Keiji’s mouth going dry in a stadium bigger than both their gyms put together. The air was a deafening roar of cheers and whistles; the still point, on centre court where a hush hovered at Kenma’s fingertips.   
  
Later, they’d run into each other near the locker rooms and exchange congratulations. Their handshake was a lit fuse, their next match, the silent, mutual sparking.  
  
Keiji, walking away, and turning back.  
  
Kenma being the one to take him by the collar, pull Keiji down and kiss him, all apple-pie cinnamon and sweat and awkward angles sharper than his serves, softer than his voice.

 

/

 

“It’ll never work,” Keiji said, in response to Konoha’s arched eyebrow.   
  
“When I’m with him—”  
  
 _—it’s like being with someone who can see into my head._  
  
It would be months before he found out that Kenma had said the same to Kuroo. The knowledge came to him via the loud and circuitous means of a well-meaning Bokuto, who closed the loop of this echo on an idyllic snowy day. It did not surprise Keiji in the least to hear it.  
  
Bokuto scratched his head, stared into the sky and nearly tripped over the kerb into a puddle of slush. He went on, unconcerned.  
  
“Well, he’s staying in Tokyo for university, and you’re going away!”  
  
“He can do as he likes,” said Keiji.  
  
“I mean,” said Bokuto, waving his hands in an expansive gesture, “maybe your heads will grow further apart.”  
  
“Our heads.”  
  
“Your heads.” Bokuto grinned. “ _Exactly._ ”

 

/

 

This was what weekends brought, now: a ride on the  _shinkansen_ , a view of mountains that melted into billboards, a skyline that made Keiji’s chest clench up; and spring, a thaw around their feet.   
  
The city stirred. In Keiji’s wake, the train lines were a cartography of distance he’d etched into valleys, across quiet land. He had measured them, not in hours or miles, but in reasons, one after another.  
  
His throat was full of them now. He found he could not put them into words.  
  
 _So don’t say anything_ , said Kenma’s piercing gaze, the one that always saw everything, and Keiji saw too, and listened.


End file.
